


Leaving the Wedding Early

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Decisions, John's Wedding, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not Sherstrade, Paternal Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:33:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: This is a missing scene when Sherlock left John's wedding early. Greg follows him out and finds out just how much John being married has affected him.
{"Sherlock!" Greg practically shouts in his ear.
Sherlock turns to look at him, his heart racing from the shock.
"I must have called your name five times. Where are you going? The party's not over for a few more hours yet."
With Greg here, warm, caring and safe, Sherlock's plans suddenly change. He wants to feel something other than the empty chasm in his chest, he wants to feel that someone wants him, even if it can't be the man that he truly loves. He launches himself at Greg, hands gripping shoulders, fingers digging in, and his lips fasten over Greg's...}





	

Sherlock walks out of the wedding reception wrapping his coat around himself like armour and trying to look unaffected. He wants to rip the hateful suit he is wearing off and destroy it, he wants to reverse time back to when he didn't know that John is going to be a father and that his domestic life with Mary will be complete without him. His eyes filling with tears he stalks towards the road to seek a taxi. Unlikely to find one passing this far out from central London but worth a try. Otherwise he will have to call for one and hide somewhere while he waits.

He reaches the kerb and as he suspected a few private cars pass but no taxis. His shaking hand pulls out his phone and he looks through a blur of unshed tears to type in the number. Just as he is about to connect the call he is shocked by a hand grabbing his shoulder and he nearly drops his mobile.

"Sherlock!" Greg practically shouts in his ear.

Sherlock turns to look at him, his heart racing from the shock.

"I must have called your name five times. Where are you going? The party's not over for a few more hours yet."

With Greg here, warm, caring and safe, Sherlock's plans suddenly change. He wants to feel something other than the empty chasm in his chest, he wants to feel that someone wants him, even if it can't be the man that he truly loves. He launches himself at Greg, hands gripping shoulders, fingers digging in, and his lips fasten over Greg's. It is an inelegant kiss, pure lust and desperation. Greg stumbles backwards but manages to regain his footing before falling. His lips are prised open by Sherlock's probing tongue and for a brief second Greg finds himself automatically returning the kiss, his tongue reaching out to caress Sherlock's, until he realises what is happening and roughly pushes Sherlock away.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demands.

Instead of answering directly Sherlock simply says "I want to suck your cock!" And surges forward, clawing at the fastening of Greg's trousers. Greg firmly grasps Sherlock's wrists and moves his hands away from his groin. "No! Sherlock!" He cries angrily, then seeing Sherlock's distraught expression he softens and says "No. Come on, let's get you home. You obviously aren't in any state to go back in there and we can't stay out here all night."

Greg calls a taxi and they stand in an awkward silence together until it arrives. Soon enough they are climbing out at Baker Street. They enter the flat and Greg goes straight to the kitchen to make tea. Sherlock vanishes into the bathroom so Greg calls to him "We'll talk while we have our tea, it'll be ready in a minute." 

Their drinks are almost ready when Sherlock emerges, naked. In a few strides he reaches Greg and pushes his body against Greg's front, pressing him back against the kitchen cupboards. "You know you want me. Come on. Fuck me. I want it." He demands.

Greg being totally broadsided by this turn of events does not initially resist when Sherlock grabs his hand and pushes it between his buttocks. Greg feels slickness between the cheeks and then the tip of his finger is pushed inside by Sherlock's desperate fingers. He wrenches his hand free and shoves Sherlock away hard causing the man to stumble and crumple to the floor. Sherlock lies still for a second then curls up and cries.

Greg takes a deep breath to steady himself and gets a tea towel from the draining board. He covers Sherlock's crotch then crouches down and rubs his shoulder. 

Aiming for pragmatism Greg says firmly "Come on, up you get. Go wash your hands and get some clothes on." 

Through shuddering breaths Sherlock wails "No one wants me!" 

"Hush now, don't be silly." 

"You don't want me, J..J.. John doesn't want me." He stutters between sobs.

Greg's heart breaks a little at the confirmation of his suspicions, "Yeah, I thought that's what this was all about. Look, if I was even a little bit gay I probably would be interested..."

"Just pretend I'm a woman, you don't have to look at me."

"That rather defeats the object of this exercise doesn't it? To make you feel wanted."

"I could pretend, could pretend that you were..." Sherlock dissolves into sobs.

Greg hauls Sherlock up, the tea towel dropping to the floor, and hugs him fiercely. "Of course I want you you idiot, why else would I put up with your annoying arse at my crime scenes?"

Sherlock sniffs miserably "You are incompetent and unable to cope with the complexities of solving anything more than the most mediocre of crimes?"

Greg sighs resignedly "Look I'm trying here, ok? I care about you, but not like that. You're more like a son to me, so this," he waves a hand at Sherlock's nakedness, "just feels wrong. Please get some clothes on so we can talk properly."

"What am I going to do?" Sherlock asks plaintively.

"We'll work it out. Clothes! Now!" Greg commands gently.

Sherlock slinks to the bathroom and the sounds of running water emerge, followed by the sound of the connecting door to Sherlock's room opening. 

Greg nods to himself and shuddering slightly washes his hands very thoroughly in the kitchen sink. He makes tea and not daring to sit in either John or Sherlock's armchairs settles on the sofa. 

When Sherlock comes out he is clad in pyjamas and his blue dressing gown, and is carrying his suit from the wedding bundled in his arms. He dumps it in the fireplace and reaches for matches from the mantelpiece. Greg simply watches as Sherlock manages to catch the jacket sleeve alight and the flames rapidly spread to engulf the suit. Once it is blazing Sherlock slumps onto the sofa next to Greg and stares at the flames in silence. They sit together until the fire dies down and all that remains is tattered fragments.

"Feel better?"

"No." Sherlock says slowly in a flat miserable tone of voice.

"Sherlock. Have you taken anything?" Greg asks carefully.

He glares and opens his mouth to snap in anger, his automatic response to being confronted with his drug use, but seeing the concerned look on Greg's face sighs instead and replies "No. But I want to."

"You know I can't let you do that don't you."

Sherlock nods dumbly.

"I should call Mycroft."

"No!"

"You are well on your way to relapse, I have to." Greg insists.

"Please, don't. I'm not going to."

"And that is exactly what you would say."

"Greg."

"Give it to me." Greg demands.

"What?"

"You know what. Now!"

Sherlock hesitates, he is going to deny having anything to surrender, but seeing the determined look on Greg's face relents and says "Close your eyes."

Greg huffs and mumbles that he shouldn't let Sherlock keep his hiding place secret but complies.

After a few minutes of listening to Sherlock moving around the entire flat and seemingly moving everything Greg feels a box being placed in his lap. He finds that it is a kit containing bottles of what must be liquid cocaine and a glass and metal syringe. 

"Thank you. I'll get rid of this for you."

Sherlock looks panicked. "Wait! No! The.. That's an antique."

"Fine. I'll dispose of this," indicating the liquid, "and I'll give this to Mycroft for safekeeping."

Sherlock drops onto the sofa. "He's really gone." He says flatly.

"Not gone. He'll still be around."

"It won't be the same. I need him."

"I know mate. Look, now that you've calmed down, you're not going to do anything silly are you?"

Looking sadly down at his knees Sherlock shakes his head.

"You need to get some sleep. It'll look better in the morning."

"Will it?" Sherlock looks at him with desperate eyes brimming with tears.

"Uh...Maybe not." Greg reluctantly concedes, "But if it doesn't, you call me and we'll find you something to keep your mind off of it until it does."

He nods slowly. "I had an email this morning from Lady Smallwood about some missing letters. Maybe I should take the case, that might keep me busy."

"That's a lad. We'll get you through this. I know you care about him..."

"Love him." Sherlock mumbles so low Greg isn't sure he had heard it.

"...but you've got me, and Molly, and God help us Mycroft, you aren't alone. Do you want me to stay tonight?" Greg asks, "On the sofa." He clarifies hastily.

Gathering himself Sherlock takes a deep breath "No. Thank you, and I'm sorry for.. earlier, I shouldn't have.. done that."

Greg smiles ruefully "Don't worry about it, it's not the first time you've propositioned me, lets just try to make it the last, yeah?"

Sherlock shudders at the hazy memory of offering himself to the police officer confiscating his stash in exchange for being allowed one more hit. "Sorry." He mumbles.

"Come on. Bed. Call me tomorrow when you've looked at this case and let me know if you need me to find you anything else. I'll call every police department from here to Edinburgh if I have to. We'll get you something gruesome to keep that brain working, don't you worry."

"I'll have to do it without him."

"Yeah. Want me to follow you around telling you you're amazing?"

Sherlock gives a pained laugh.

"I'm not much for writing though, how's Mycroft with the flowery prose? Maybe he could be your blogger."

Sherlock shudders and gives a more genuine laugh. "Imagine the look on his face, I could take a picture, maybe I should suggest it to him."

Greg clasps him on the shoulder. "That's better. Cases and annoying the fuck out of your brother, that's what you need."

"Thank you." Sherlock says looking directly into Greg's eyes.

"Call tomorrow," Greg declares, "go to sleep now, and don't do anything silly."

Sherlock nods and watches Greg leave then goes to his bedroom to sleep. He needs to keep busy, that's going to be the key. Lady Smallwood first, it sounds simple, just some missing letters, then onto bigger things.

**Author's Note:**

> I love kudos and comments :-)


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